


Hope for the Hopeless

by owltype



Series: Hope for the Hopeless [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve Friendly, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve and Tony Actually Talk, T'Challa Is a Good Bro, Tony Friendly, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:13:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8416897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owltype/pseuds/owltype
Summary: Tony pauses before he knocks on Steve’s door, taking a moment to calm his racing heart and steel his courage. Coming to Wakanda had been a split-second decision. He’d been high off of endorphins after his conversation with Steve, and at the time it had sounded like a good idea. Now, he’s not so sure.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Hope for the Hopeless (перевод)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10438932) by [sverhanutaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sverhanutaya/pseuds/sverhanutaya)



> Second part is here! Shorter than the first, but what can you do? I'm not sure how many parts there will be in total--probably only a few. I have a chaptered fic to work on, after all. ;)
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I love kudos/comments. They are food for my Muse.
> 
> This fic has been translated into Russian by the wonderful sverhanutaya. [Check it out!](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5257091)

T’Challa steps forward to meet Tony as he steps off the jet. “I must say, Mr. Stark, this is rather unprecedented.”

“You just don’t know me very well yet,” Tony says as he shakes T’Challa’s hand. “You’ll soon find I’m always very unprecedented.”

“Indeed,” T’Challa says with a little smile. “Shall we?”

“I was born ready,” Tony says with faux-bravado. Inside, though, he’s quaking.

T’Challa leads Tony into an ornate office. “Can I get you a drink?” He asks, heading for a small liquor cabinet tucked into the corner.

“God, I want to say yes.” Tony sighs. He collapses into one of the chairs in front of T’Challa’s very large, very old desk. “But I want to face Steve sober.”

“Are you worried?” T’Challa asks, amused. He sinks into the chair across from Tony with more grace and panache than Tony has ever had. Tony’s kind of jealous.

“I once saw the man rip a log in half with his bare hands. I don’t want to think about what he could do to me out of the suit,” Tony laughs.

“That must have been an impressive sight,” T’Challa says.

“Yeah, it was.” _Fucking hot_ , Tony adds silently. “Thank you for this, T’Challa. Your palace has become the Avengers frat house, it seems.”

T’Challa chuckles. “It has been my pleasure,” he says. “My father might not be so pleased, but I have always done things my own way.”

“It’s good to have someone like you on their side,” Tony says quietly. “You can protect them in ways I can’t. Not yet.”

“You have done amazing work on the Accords,” T’Challa says gently. He reaches over to clasp Tony’s shoulder. “They will be able to go home soon.”

Tony tries to smile, but he feels it comes off as bittersweet. “If they want to, of course.”

T’Challa doesn’t say anything, just smiles at Tony in a strange, knowing way. He stands up from his chair and holds one bejeweled hand out to Tony. “Come. It is time you saw them again.”

Tony sighs and grabs T’Challa’s hand, lets himself be pulled out of the chair and guided down the hallway. “If you don’t see me again in 24 hours, assume the worst.”

“Or the best,” T’Challa says with a wink in Tony’s direction.

\-----

Tony pauses before he knocks on Steve’s door, taking a moment to calm his racing heart and steel his courage. Coming to Wakanda had been a split-second decision. He’d been high off of endorphins after his conversation with Steve, and at the time it had sounded like a good idea. Now, he’s not so sure.

But he’s here. May as well make the most of it.

Tony takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.

“Come in!” Steve calls.

Tony feels a childish urge to run away. Nope, sorry, the stars, can’t do it. Not today.

 _Man up, Stark_ he tells himself and puts his palms against the door, pushing it open slowly. “Hey,” he says softly.

Steve had been lounging on his bed, looking at an art book, but when Tony comes through the door he’s on his feet in no time at all, body tense and on high alert, like he’s expecting an attack. “Tony.”

“Yeah,” Tony says, shuffling farther into the room. “Surprised to see me?”

Steve considers this. “No,” he says finally. “You’ve always done things your own way.”

“That’s me, Mr. Unprecedented,” Tony says weakly.

Steve eyes him up, drags his gaze all over Tony’s body, cataloging the just-fading bruises that scatter his face. There’s one scar, a gash near his temple, that’ll never disappear. Steve’s eyes linger there for a moment. “Why are you here, Tony?” He asks, his voice quiet.

“Honestly? I have no clue.” Tony clears his throat. “Sounded like a good idea at the time.”

“And now?” Steve asks, guarded.

“Data insufficient,” Tony says and tries to crack a smile but his heart just isn’t in it.

The strength seems to leave Steve’s body and he sags to the bed. His hands come up and tug at the ends of his (long and shaggy, Tony notes) hair. “Jesus, Tony,” Steve whispers, looking wrecked.

“Yeah,” Tony agrees. He suddenly feels he needs to sit, too. The last time he was alone with this man, it had not gone well, and Tony is feeling overwhelmed and a little woozy. Only, the chair seems too far away, so he sinks to the floor and sits cross-legged, fingers buried in the carpet to stop their trembling.

“So,” Steve asks, watching him. “What now? Where do we go from here?”

Tony lets out a short bark of laughter. He doesn’t mean to, it’s just suddenly, this all seems so damn ridiculous. Once the dam is broken, Tony can’t hold it in anymore. The laughter bubbles in his chest and spills over his lips.

Steve is looking at him appraisingly, with growing concern. “Is everything funny to you?” He asks.

“Funny things are,” Tony gasps, and now his eyes are watering, too.

\-----

“I’m sorry, that was random." Tony says later, once he finally has himself under control.

Steve squeezes the nape of his neck. Tony’s eyes flutter and he allows his head to tip forward to better enjoy the massage. “Panic attacks never make any sense.”

Tony groans and buries his face in his knees. “How embarrassing,” he tells the floor, unable to look at Steve.

“Hush,” Steve soothes, chafing his hands against Tony’s arms. “You’re not embarrassing.”

“I slobbered all over T’Challa’s very expensive carpet,” Tony disagrees. He leans into Steve’s touch a little, trying to seek more of the warmth rolling off of Steve’s body.

“We’ll leave that part out of the official report,” Steve promises.

Tony hiccups out a laugh. “What good would that do? He’s probably spying on us right now,” he says.

“That voyeur,” Steve says with mock gravity in his voice.

Tony collapses in a fit of giggles, clinging to Steve for support. Steve holds him a little longer, until the giggles pass, then pushes him away gently. Tony continues to avoid his gaze, turning his head away to stare at the dark television.

“Tony,” Steve says. He reaches out to cradle Tony’s jaw in his hands and turns Tony’s face toward him. Tony doesn’t even bother to resist. “Look at me.”

Tony does. Zemo was right: there is some green hidden in all the blue.

“We need to talk about this,” Steve says. His thumb brushes over an indent in Tony’s cheek. “It’s the only way we can move forward.”

Tony brings his hands up and circles his fingers around Steve’s wrists. He feels vulnerable, weak, and Steve’s touch grounds him even as it terrifies him. “Will you listen this time?” He asks quietly.

Steve’s eyes are sad. “I was stupid to not listen the first time.”

“Well, okay then,” Tony says, and he offers Steve a tentative smile.


End file.
